


Whatever The Opposite Of Lesbian Sheep Syndrome Is

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Drinking, Kissing, M/M, Manhandling, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 02:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15876381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Shane was the one who kissed, not the one who was kissed.Shane was the one who did the holding, not the one who was held, and that was fine.





	Whatever The Opposite Of Lesbian Sheep Syndrome Is

“You’re a goddamn… you’re a crane,” said Ryan. 

Shane glanced at him sidelong, as Ryan wobbled on his seat. 

“You are sloshed,” said Shane, and he was grinning in spite of himself, as he rested his elbows on the bar.

It was… sticky.

Shane wasn’t going to dwell on that. 

Ryan was cute when he was drunk - he got wobbly, and lost some of that inherent self consciousness that seemed built into him. 

“You’re a crane,” Ryan insisted.

“I mean,” Shane said, “I did say that there are cranes in Chicago.”

“Obviously there are cranes in Chicago. It’s got all those big buildings!”

“... what?”

Shane gave Ryan a sidelong look, trying to parse whatever it was that was going through Ryan’s head.

“Y’know, cranes? To build shit with?”

“Oh. _Oh_. That kind of crane.” 

“What other kinda crane were you thinking of?”

“The kind that people mistake Mothman for,” said Shane. 

“You mean people mistake for Mothman?” 

“No,” said Shane, “that Mothman gets mistaken for. Obviously. That flappy spookster gets misidentified by birdwatchers all the time.”

“Flappy spookster is the dumbest name you’ve ever made, you know that?”

“Anyone who brings up Underwater Area 51 is not allowed to call me dumb,” Shane said. 

“But yeah,” said Ryan, and took a slug of his drink, then made a face. “It’s bitter on the back end.”

“Sounds like some people I’ve known,” Shane said. 

Ryan was teetering, and Shane reached a hand out, putting it on Ryan’s shoulder.

It would do fuck all if Ryan actually fell over, but it was the thought that counted, right? 

“You’re a crane. You’re… you’re high up, and I bet you can lift people up.”

“Are you kidding? With my noodle arms?”

“I bet you’re big and strong. I bet you could… you could take charge, be all… tough. Lift shit.”

“A lot of people do,” Shane said, and maybe there was a touch of wistfulness in his voice, but Ryan was (hopefully) too sloshed to notice that.

“I’m stronger than you are,” said Ryan.

“You’re stronger than most people,” Shane said. 

Ryan snorted. 

“I mean, yeah, ‘cause I work at it,” Ryan said, and he flexed.

His muscles bulged under his shirt, and Shane let himself ogle, because Ryan wouldn’t remember it, and he kept himself in check, more or less.

He wanted… he wanted so hard he could almost feel the warmth of Ryan’s skin against his fingertips, but no.

That wasn’t for him.

He wanted nothing so much as to kiss Ryan right now - just lean in, press their lips together…. 

But no.

There was a time and a place. 

A time, a place, and a receptive audience.

This… this was very much not it.

Although it felt odd to refer to Ryan as an “it,” even in the confines of Shane’s own head.

Shane sighed, and he took a swig of his beer. 

“I think you’ve had enough,” Shane told Ryan. 

“I could have more,” said Ryan. 

“I mean, you _could_ have more,” said Shane, “but there is a given amount of alcohol you can ingest before you start leaking.”

“Are you suggesting I’m going to pee myself?”

Ryan managed to look pretty indignant, for a guy who was about to fall off of a bar stool. 

“Leaking from the dick, leaking from the eyes… it’s all the same to me, really.”

“... “leaking from the eyes,” really?” Ryan made a face. “Do I look like someone who is gonna start crying while drunk?”

“Drunk crying tends to work like that,” said Shane. “It just… happens.”

“Do you drunk cry a lot?”

Ryan was looking at him thoughtfully. 

“Not a lot a lot,” said Shane. “I’ve been known to, but other than the time I ate a pumpkin, I’m a pretty boring drunk.”

“Why did you do that in the first place?”

“I was drunk,” Shane reminded Ryan. “I don’t really remember why.”

Which wasn’t entirely true, but nobody wants to admit to their own drunken sobbing, let alone pining after the various unreachable people in his life.

“You’re a nice drunk,” Ryan said, and he patted Shane on the arm in what he probably thought was a reassuring way. 

“You’re a very affectionate drunk,” said Shane, and he kept his tone jovial. 

“You get weird about touching, you ever notice that?”

Shane raised an eyebrow, as Ryan nearly fell off of the stool, and then Ryan was standing up, wobbling.

“I’m not weird about touching,” Shane deflected. “I’m from the midwest. That’s different from being… repressed.”

“Isn’t being from the Midwest the same as being repressed?”

Ryan grabbed Shane’s shoulders, squeezing them. 

“I’ll have you know, we talk about things that… are talkable.”

This conversation would have been a lot easier to have if Shane _himself_ wasn’t halfway to sloshed himself. 

“Like what?”

“Casseroles.”

“You know, Eugene has a whole complex about casseroles,” said Ryan, and he kept holding on to Shane’s shoulders.

Shane’s shirt was going to have some pretty impressive wrinkles.

“In fairness, casseroles are a complicated thing,” said Shane, keeping his voice mellow. 

Shane was close enough that they could kiss, if Shane leaned forward and pressed their mouths together. 

Well. 

“Eugene is confused by white people in general,” said Ryan. 

“I can’t blame him. We are a confusing bunch.”

“You’d think he’d be used to ‘em by now,” Ryan said. 

Ryan was leaning against him, his forehead pressed into Shane’s shoulder. 

“Well,” said Shane, because how else was he supposed to respond to that?

“Well?” 

Ryan sat up some more, and he pressed his forehead against Shane’s. 

“Well,” said Shane. “Um. Casseroles are, uh... they’re handy.”

“Handy?”

“All that nutritional punch into one handy… pyrex dish,” said Shane.

His heart was beating very fast in his ears. 

Ryan was _never_ this physically affectionate, even when he was drunk.

“Don’t you have, like, tater tot casseroles?”

“Well, yes, that’s not one of the nutritional punches.”

“You wouldn’t pack good nutritional punches,” said Ryan, and his hand moved down, to squeeze at Shane’s biceps.

“I’m not exactly high in dietary fiber, no,” said Shane, his tone dry.

“How about protein?”

And then Ryan was cackling, right in Shane’s face, and Shane might have been vaguely besotted, but his breath smelled… well.

It had been better.

It smelled faintly like the bourbon, and the margarita, and then the other bourbon, and the beer….

“We need to get you to bed, buddy,” said Shane, and he patted Ryan on the shoulder. 

“You really do wanna get me to bed, don’t ya?”

Ryan was giggling some more, and Shane froze.

Um.

Fuck. 

“C’mon,” said Shane, and he stood up, carefully.

Yeah, he was still kinda… stumbling.

Fuck. 

“You’re cute,” said Ryan, and he was listing against Shane, as the two of them made their way out of the bar.

“I do my best,” Shane demurred.

Ryan’s arm was around Shane’s waist, and Shane’s heart was in his throat. 

Why was he feeling this so hard?

Usually he had a better handle on all these various fuzzy, leaping feelings, but booze let them out.

Shane ran a hand across Ryan’s back, once, and he lingered more than he normally would when he was sober, but… we must make concessions to the soft, delicate bits of ourselves that come out when drunk. 

But then his hand was resting on Ryan’s hip, carefully, platonic enough to call a chicken a man.

Wait, no, was that Diogenes? 

“We need to go home,” said Shane.

“When you say it like that, you make it sound like we have the same home,” said Ryan, and he was still snickering. “All the fans think we live together anyway.”

“Far be it from me to disappoint our fans that can’t see us right now,” Shane said.

Ryan had his head on Shane’s shoulder, and he was breathing on Shane’s neck.

If Shane wasn’t quite so fond of Ryan, he might have found the whole “breathing down the neck” thing horrible.

As it was, it was this side of tolerable. 

“Gonna call an Uber?”

“Yeah” said Shane, and he fumbled for his phone, then opened the app up, carefully.

“You wanna share an Uber?”

“Sure,” said Ryan, still swaying. “You’d go down like a crane, I think.”

“Probably,” Shane agreed, as he tapped on his phone screen.

“Dude,” said Ryan. “Dude.” 

“Dude?”

“You’re… you’re a weird dude. Like, your face is… your face is weirdly compelling. When I look at it, it’s just… it’s there. Attached. To you.”

“It it indeed attached to me,” said Shane. “What with it being _my_ face.”

Ryan leaned back against Shane, and he was cackling, his eyes on Shane’s face.

There was something almost _shrewd_ in his expression, and Shane didn’t know that Ryan could do shrewd.

“Hey, big guy?”

“Mm?”

“What are you like in bed?”

Shane’s stomach was in the vicinity of the soles of his feet right now. 

Fuck. 

“You’ve been in bed with me,” said Shane.

They were standing in front of the bar, upwind of the smokers.

The moon grinned down at them, like a smirking face.

“You know what i mean,” said Ryan. “I bet you’re… take charge. You always take charge. Mister Science, unflappable.”

“It is what’s expected of me,” Shane said, and maybe his tone was a tad… well, he wasn’t sure what it was doing, but it was doing something.

He was better at hiding his feelings when he was sober.

“I expect a lot of stuff from you, big guy,” Ryan said, and he patted Shane on the hip. 

“Everyone does,” said Shane. 

“It’s a good thing, for people to expect things of you,” said Ryan. “means they think you’re good for.”

“You think?” 

“Oh, totally. People… people expect from me too. Not the same stuff, obviously.”

More wobbling.

“I like being expected of,” said Ryan. “Albeit… subverting them too.”

“Subverting?”

“Oh yeah,” said Ryan, and yeah, okay, that look was definitely crafty.

Shane was a bit… he was totally seeing things. 

"Yeah," said Ryan. "C'mon. You know about film. You know about subverting expectations."

"You are going in, like, twelve different directions. Consider me lagging behind," said Shane.

"Are you sure you're not just staying behind to watch my butt?"

And then Ryan was cackling, right up against Shane's shoulder, and the vibrations of his laughter were ticklish against Shane's skin, even through the thin fabric of Shane's shirt.

"Ryan," Shane said, and he was trying to play it off, he _had_ to play it off, "I'm not going to look at your butt with impunity."

"What if I gave you permission to look at my butt? It'd be without impunity."

"Do you even know what impunity means?"

"Probably, although fucked if I remember what it means right now," said Ryan, and then he was giving Shane's middle a good squeeze. "Is that our ride?"

"Looks like it, yeah," said Shane, and he helped Ryan towards the car, carefully. 

"You worry too much, big guy," Ryan said, and he patted Shane on the thigh, as the two of them sat next to each other in the back seat.

Shane was probably over thinking things, but it seemed like Ryan left his hand there longer than he necessarily needed to. 

Shane could still feel it, even as he got out of the car, into his own apartment.

He could still feel it when he flopped onto his empty bed, his hand sliding into his pajama pants, as the room spun around him.

God, to kiss Ryan.

To taste the bourbon and whatever else it was that Ryan had been drinking, to have Ryan's body up against his own, to drown in the sensation of them pressed against each other....

Shane came across his own hand, his stomach, a long, slow orgasm that seemed to build and build and build, until he was trembling, his cock still pulsing.

"Well," he said to the empty room, "at least I don't have to worry about whiskey dick, right?"

The room didn't answer, thank fuck. 

He wasn't yet that drunk. 

* * * 

Shane woke up with a pounding headache, and a vague feeling like he'd done something wrong, or possibly missed something.

It was bad enough that he went over all of his phone messages very carefully - all he'd done was text Eugene a picture of a moose, and tell Ryan that he'd gotten home safely. 

It was bad enough that he was checking if he'd left the stove on before he left his apartment, and nearly missed his ride. 

When he came into the office, he was practically slinking.

_What_ had he missed?

... and then he saw Ryan sitting there, looking tired and slightly like death, but otherwise cheerful.

"No more drinking like that on weeknights," Ryan told Shane.

"I agree with that assessment," Shane said, and he took a slug of the big glass of water that Ryan had left him on his desk. 

Then Shane leaned in, looking faintly embarrassed.

He was almost - but not quite - in Ryan's personal bubble.

"Did I do anything... y'know, awkward? Weird?"

Ryan looked at Shane, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I feel like I... forgot something," Shane admitted, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I just want to make sure I didn't accidentally run naked across the parking lot or whatever without any knowledge of it."

"No, as far as I can remember, you didn't do anything especially... crazy," said Ryan, and he patted Shane on the leg. "Don't worry, big guy. You're good."

And Shane blushed, luminescent, all the way to his ears.

He couldn't help it!

They were just... this close together, and then he was this close to Ryan, and it was all a mess.

He bit back the urge to groan, and he just grinned at Ryan.

"Good to know," he told Ryan. 

"Oh yeah," said Ryan. "Unless I'm holding something back, just to hold over your head at some future date, when I need a favor."

Shane's expression turned stricken.

"No, shit, no, I'm kidding," Ryan said quickly. "Don't worry about it." 

"Thanks," said Shane, then, "sorry."

Ryan snorted.

"Are you sure you're the real Shane? Usually you'd be busting my chops some more."

"No," Shane said, his voice deadpan. "I'm a pod person, replaced by Mothman."

"I didn't know that Mothman was in the practice of replacing people with pod people," said Ryan. "You'd think that would have shown up in the Richard Gere movie."

"Let's not talk about the Richard Gere movie," Shane said. 

"You know, I watched it recently."

"What'd you think?"

"It was pretty bad."

"I don't remember much about it," Shane admitted it.

"I guess we need to watch it together," Ryan said, "to compare it to the real thing."

"Wait, what?"

"I'll come over on Friday night, sound good?"

"Uh, sure," said Shane. "Did you just invite yourself over to my house to watch a shitty Richard Gere movie?"

"I don't think it's that shitty," said Ryan. "It's bad, but it's not, like... bad-bad."

"Bad-bad?"

"It's not _The Room_ levels of bad," said Ryan. 

"Nothing is that level of bad," said Shane. "Anyway, that movie was made intentionally bad."

Ryan shot Shane an annoyed look. 

It was an old argument. 

Shane smirked, back on familiar territory of needling Ryan.

It was good to be on familiar territory.

"We'll watch it on Friday," said Ryan, with an air of finality, and he patted Shane on the shoulder, then put his headphones on.

... huh.

That had felt more like a proclamation from on high than a suggestion for hanging out.

There was something going on here, that Shane was missing.

This was going to make him crazy. 

But he had other things to worry about at present.

He put his own headphones on, and then he was editing, frowning at his screen and drinking his water.

He barely even noticed his headache, which was good. 

He just needed to concentrate on his work, and try not to think too hard about how nice it was to have Ryan's hand on his leg. 

… god, he was in a weird mood.

He needed to get out more. 

He needed to get laid, he needed to… he needed to do a lot of stuff.

Shane put his face in his hands, and he gave a long, drawn groan. 

“No more drinking on weekdays,” said Ryan, and he sounded amused. 

Shane gave an awkward thumbs up. 

* * *

Shane cleaned his apartment.

He even vacuumed, although he wasn't entirely sure why.

Maybe it was just anxiety.

He wasn't usually one to get full on anxious - he wasn't Ryan.

He would chase the same thought around and around the inside of his head, but he didn't usually get... restless.

But here he was, vacuuming, lost in his own head.

Was he thinking too deeply about this?

Was he reading too much into it?

But he still cleaned, because... well, it helped him feel better. 

It wasn't as if Ryan was expecting things to be neat - Shane wasn't known for having the best housekeeping.

But Shane flopped back onto his couch, his feet up on his coffee table, leaning back with his hands behind his head, and he surveyed his domain.

Okay.

Everything seemed to be working out, more or less.

It was working.

It would be fine. 

Everything would be fine. 

* * * 

"Did you _vacuum_ in here?"

Ryan sat on Shane's couch, looking around Shane's apartment with an interested expression.

"A man can't occasionally be struck with an urge to clean?"

Shane sat down next to Ryan, keeping half a couch cushion between the two of them. 

Ryan leaned back in his seat, his hands behind his head, leaning back into Shane's couch. 

"I mean, a man can, but unless you're going all Jaqen H'ghar on me, you don't usually," said Ryan. "You trying to make things nice for me?"

"What, I can't want to impress you?"

"I've seen you in your socks covered in holes and boxers that are probably older than I am -"

"I do _not_ own any underwear older than you, I am not that old!"

"No? So you've gotten new underwear?"

"Well, yes, I do replace my underwear," said Shane. 

Why were they talking about his underwear?

"Are they cuter than the last pair?"

"You thought my last pair was cute?"

"I think that it's hard for your underwear to be less cute than it was," said Ryan. "Short of being naked."

"What, you think I'd be less cute naked than wearing ugly underwear?"

"Yeah, fair," Ryan said, his tone thoughtful. "I guess it'd be easier to say that it's more _effective_ if you just didn't wear any. Since that other underwear is so holy."

"I can protect myself from non-existent ghosts with my underwear," Shane said, his voice deadpan.

"No, from demons. Ghosts aren't afraid of holy stuff."

"Right. Demons are going to be afraid of my underwear."

"I'm not even a demon and I'm a little scared of your underwear."

"How the fuck did we get down this rabbit hole of talking about my underwear?" 

"My original point," said Ryan, "and I did have one, was that you don't exactly need to work hard to try to impress me. I've seen you at your metaphorical worse."

"You haven't seen me at my worst," said Shane. "Trust me on that."

"You've seen me at my worst," said Ryan, "what with the screaming."

Shane snickered. 

"You've seen all the bits of me," said Ryan, his expression thoughtful. 

"Not all of them," said Shane. "There are parts of you I haven't seen."

"I mean," said Ryan, "you could see them, if you wanted to."

And Shane blushed.

Oh god.

What was Ryan _suggesting_?

Was he overthinking this?

He licked his lips. 

"What are you offering?"

"I'm hitting on you," Ryan said in a rush. "Please respond in some kind of way, before I chicken out and leave a hole in your door like something out of a Warner Brothers cartoon." 

"Right," said Shane. "Why are you hitting on me?"

Shane's mind was going in about eighty different places at once, and none of them were related to his mouth. 

"... what?"

"Why are you hitting on me?"

"Why are you _asking_ me that?!"

"Because... because people don't hit on me," Shane said, and he rested his elbows on his thighs, his chin in his hands. 

"What, really?"

Now Ryan looked faintly surprised.

"Yes, really!"

"I mean, I get hit on -"

"Ryan, you are possibly the most good looking dude I've ever seen," said Shane. "Of course people hit on you."

Ryan snorted, and he gave Shane a sidelong look.

"You're... you're good looking," said Ryan. "I've been thinking about you for a while, okay? Like... a while awhile. I've been thinking about saying this for a while, just... y'know, it's hard to say it."

He got off of the couch then, and then he was pacing around Shane's living room. 

Shane leaned back against the couch, his hands behind his head, his fingers in his hair. 

“So you’re… why are you saying this now?”

“Because if I don’t say something soon, I’m going to explode,” said Ryan. “And you’re turning me down. You’re not interested. So I’ve just made a giant idiot of myself, and I have to now go hide under a rock, because -”

“I’m not -”

“Yes, yes, you’re not doing it meanly,” Ryan said, and he was now waving his hands in the air. “You’re going to be perfectly nice about it, and we’re gonna have an awkward conversation, and then we’re going to go back to being normal buddies and you’ll always stay on your side of the metaphorical -”

Oh god.

Shane’s heart was beating very fast in his ears, and his palms were sweating. 

“Ryan, let me finish a goddamn sentence,” Shane said. 

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Ryan stopped pacing, and he looked embarrassed. 

“I’m not… I’m not turning you down,” Shane said slowly, and he was keeping his eyes on his hands. “I’m… you want to hit on me, you go for it. Hit away. Not literally, because you’d probably break me in half, but, uh, but….” Shane paused, licked his lips, and he glanced up at Ryan’s face.

It was very red. 

Shane took a deep breath. 

If they were going to be emotionally honest - inexplicably emotionally honest, while sober, even! - he might as well go whole hog, right?

“I’m not used to being on the… receiving end of this kind of thing. Also, I didn’t know you were actually interested in men.”

Ryan shrugged.

“I dunno,” he said. “I’ve just lately been… noticing people. Been noticing a whole bunch of different people. And you’re the main person I’ve been noticing, and I figured I’d… y’know, shoot for the moon, maybe you’ll land among the stars. That kinda thing.”

“The stars are millions of miles away from the moon,” said Shane.

He could always take refuge in pedantry. 

“Yes, I know that,” Ryan said, and when Shane glanced up, he saw that Ryan was making a dismissive gesture.

“That makes sense,” said Shane. “The… noticing. Um.”

He cleared his throat, and he rubbed his hands together, shifting to get more comfortable in his seat. 

He was still blushing.

“Are you okay?”

Ryan sounded genuinely worried, although then again, it was Ryan, and he was always a bit on edge in general. 

“I’m okay,” Shane said. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You just did the whole big feelings confession to me, I feel like that’d be… scary.”

“I’ve slept in demon houses! Hell, I slept on the ship where ghosts poked me! How could this be any scarier than that?”

“... you seriously find ghosts more scary than emotional honesty?”

“Yeah, basically,” said Ryan, and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

He looked faintly amused.

“Wow,” said Shane.

“Wow? I don’t know how to interpret wow. What does wow mean?”

“It means wow,” said Shane. 

His brain seemed to be going at a slower speed than usual. 

“So are you… going to let me down nicely now?”

Ryan looked like he was going to have a heart attack, and Shane… fell into his old role.

It was an easy role, and it wasn’t exactly a role he didn’t like.

It could be tiresome, when he was always expected to be the one who did all of the initiating, all of the active roles, but… well, to be wanted like that was nice. 

To be a doer instead of a do-ee (even if he did enjoy being done, he was still the do-er, in the way these things were viewed, but… semantics). 

He was the one who kissed, not the one who was kissed.

He was the one who did the holding, not the one who was held, and that was fine.

This was all alien and terrifying and exhilarating, and if shit went pear shaped it would be a _very_... big pear?

He was losing his train of thought.

And then he was standing in front of Ryan, chest to chest, and he was leaning down to kiss Ryan, his hands delicate on Ryan’s cheeks.

And Ryan paused; there was a brief moment, and pure terror dropped into Shane’s gut like a stone, because what if he’d misread the situation, what if he’d accidentally fucked up, what if he’d -

Ryan kissed him.

Ryan more than kissed him, Ryan… Ryan put the whole works on him, forcing Shane’s head back, his tongue in Shane’s mouth.

It was an eager kiss, a kiss that felt a bit like Ryan was trying to eat him alive, and Shane groaned into it, and let himself be pulled closer.

He’d kissed men before - he’d kissed a whole variety of humans, over the course of his life, but none of them had kissed with quite this much… enthusiasm. 

When he pulled back, Ryan was looking up at him, slightly anxious, eyes bright. 

“Fuck,” Shane said. “Are you trying to eat my face?”

“Sorry,” said Ryan, and he looked sheepish. “I, uh… I get carried away.”

Shane pressed closer to Ryan, his hands still on Ryan’s face, stroking Ryan’s cheekbones with his thumbs.

The sound was faintly rough, like someone rubbing a wire brush.

Ryan’s hands were on Shane’s hips, and he was just… holding Shane in place.

“It’s nice,” said Shane, and he cleared his throat. “Um.” 

“Is it?”

Ryan looked bemused.

“Like I said,” Shane said. “I don’t get… hit on. Or that degree of enthusiasm. Don’t ask me why.”

“Hm?”

“I’m… people have expectations of me,” Shane said, which was true. “Because I’m bigger than people, I’m usually at least a little older -”

“You chicken hawk, you,” said Ryan, his expression amused.

Shane groaned. 

“Don’t call me a chicken hawk,” he told Ryan. 

“Fair enough,” said Ryan. “But…. you’re used to being all dominant and toppy and whatnot? Do you, uh… do you want that?”

Ryan looked up at Shane, his expression hard to read. 

“I’d be willing to do that for you,” said Ryan. 

“Oh,” said Shane. 

There was a feeling of… intensity behind the sentiment, as if Ryan was admitting to some big, important thing that Shane didn’t entirely grasp. 

“But, if you’d like, I can… I mean, I don’t have to.”

“You don’t have to what?”

“I guess I should say _you_ don’t have to,” Ryan said, and now he sounded sheepish. “If you don’t want to.”

“Is this, like, the opposite of lesbian sheep syndrome?”

“What’s lesbian sheep syndrome? What do sheep have to do with anything?”

“So with sheep, the males do all of the… active stuff, and the females do all of the… passive stuff. In order to show she’s interested in fucking, she stays still.”

“Right.”

“So lesbian sheep syndrome doesn’t work, because you end up stuck with two people who don’t want to make the first move.”

“Oh,” said Ryan.

“So we’ve got… I dunno, gay ram syndrome.”

Ryan snickered. 

“I kinda just want to keep making out with you,” said Ryan. “If that’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

Ryan shrugged.

“I dunno. Maybe you’ve got hang ups.”

“I don’t have hang ups. I mean, I do, obviously I do, everyone does, but not related to kissing.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m completely hang up free,” Ryan said, but then he was kissing Shane again, and he was kissing Shane with that same enthusiasm that he’d shown before, and he was backing Shane into the couch, and then Shane was sitting on the couch, with Ryan straddling his lap.

Ryan kissed like you drink before you go through customs; fast, desperate, with the assumed expectation that it’s going to be taken away soon.

It was a bit like being eaten alive, but god, Shane was just melting into the couch, melting into the attention, the sweetness of the kiss, the warmth of Ryan’s tongue, the softness of Ryan’s hands as they passed over his face, his hair, the back of his neck.

Ryan’s tongue traced across Shane’s teeth, and then Ryan was sucking on Shane’s tongue, Ryan was pulling on Shane’s hair, Ryan was sucking on Shane’s tongue, Ryan was pulling Shane as close to him as he could. 

“You’re so warm,” said Shane, aware of how dopey he sounded, no doubt he looked dopey too, but Ryan was beginning to kiss along his neck, and oh, that was… that was _lovely_.

Shane shuddered, his eyes sliding shut, and he held on tight to Ryan, his thumbs digging into Ryan’s hips, his hips beginning to roll forward.

He was shaking, his mouth opening wider, and he was making noises that were downright embarrassing.

Or at least, he would have been embarrassed, if he’d had any shame left, but who the fuck cared about shame, when it felt this good.

“I’m not used to stubble,” Ryan said, and his voice was vibrating through his chest, through Shane’s chest.

It was almost itchy, the skin buzzing. 

“You want me to shave next time?”

“Nah,” said Ryan. “I’m willing to try new things.”

He nipped Shane’s neck, and Shane shuddered, panting. 

Fuck. 

Shane kissed Ryan again, and he pushed a little, trying to take some semblance of control.

Ryan gave it, let Shane dominate the kiss, and he made the most _delightful_ noises when Shane began to kiss along his neck, then to his shoulder, his hands clutching at Shane’s shoulders, and then he was the one dominating it again, and Shane let his head be pushed back, let Ryan’s fingers comb through his hair, let Ryan’s chapped lips press against his own.

Shane let himself be kissed, let himself be clutched, let himself be loved on. 

It was a weird sensation, which he wasn’t going to complain about, because… god, to be held was a little bit like heaven.

“I wish I could sit in your lap,” Shane said, against Ryan’s lips.

“Mmm?”

“I wish I could sit in your lap,” Shane said again, a little more self conscious this time.

“As cute as that’d be, I’d kinda… rather not get knocked out by your knees,” said Ryan. “As huge as they are.”

“Sorry about that,” said Shane. 

“Sorry for what, that you’ve got fuckin’... bone stilts?”

“Yeah, something like that,” said Shane, his expression faintly sheepish. 

“Don’t be,” said Ryan, and now he looked downright _lecherous._ “I’ve been thinking about those bone stilts wrapped around around my hips for months.” 

Shane’s cock actually twitched.

Full on twitched, and that would have been embarrassing, but fuck. 

“So you wanna fuck me?”

“Of course I wanna fuck you. How could I not wanna fuck you?”

Shane shrugged. 

“I like to double check. Make sure I’m not reading too much into things.”

Ryan looked up towards the ceiling, as if asking for strength.

He kissed Shane again, and then he was rolling his hips forward, his ass against Shane’s cock, and Shane groaned, a long, deep groan, right into Ryan’s mouth. 

“Y’like that, big guy?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, his voice rough. “I like it a lot, I… I like it a lot….” 

“You know what I’d really like?”

‘What would you really like?”

“I wanna suck you off really, really badly,” Ryan said. “I mean, I want a bunch of other stuff too, obviously, I’ve thought about fucking you loads of times, as well as… well, like I said, loads of stuff. Some of it I don’t even know how to do it, but I looked it up -”

“Of course you looked it up,” Shane said, his tone affectionate. 

“And… I guess I’m asking if I can suck you off. If you wanna be sucked off. By me. Right now.”

“Sure,” said Shane.

The whole situation was taking on a level of surreality that he didn’t entirely understand. 

Was any of this happening?

Of course it was happening, because if Shane had imagined it, he wouldn’t have given Ryan breath that was quite so… unpleasant, or that Shane’s back wouldn’t hurt quite this much.

“I ask you if you’d like a blowjob, and you say “sure.” Wow, the enthusiasm,” said Ryan, but he was grinning.

“Do you want me to get the pompoms out?”

“... do you _have_ pompoms?”

Ryan looked intrigued.

“I’ve still got the cheerleader outfit,” Shane said, more to tease than because he meant it.

Only for Ryan to moan, and to kiss him again, another deep, desperate kiss that left Shane’s head spinning. 

“That fucking cheerleader outfit,” Ryan groaned, and he was kissing along Shane’s neck, his mouth soft, wet and hot, making Shane shudder, his eyes sliding shut, his head tilting back, his hips rolling forward. “Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to that?”

“Did you now?”

That was unexpected.

" _Oh yeah_ ," said Ryan, with a fervor that was unexpected.

"Why?"

"... dude," said Ryan. "I mean... dude."

"Dude?"

Shane grinned, just a bit. 

That was, quite possibly, the most Ryan thing ever.

"You're just... ridiculous," said Ryan. "So ridiculous."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Ryan put his hands on either side of Shane's head, and then he kissed Shane like it was the end of the world.

Knowing Ryan, he probably thought the end of the world was coming soon.

... or did he?

Shane made a mental note to ask about that, at some later date.

Some later date, when he wasn't holding on to Ryan's ass, and Ryan wasn't grinding against him industriously. 

"So I really want to fuck you," Ryan said. "I said I wanted to suck you, but.... I know that's, like, moving too fast or something, and if it's too much then I totally understand -"

"Are you trying to assure me that you won't kick me out of the car if I don't put out?"

Shane tried to inject enough humor in his tone that Ryan would be able to tell he was joking.

Ryan snorted.

"Something like that, yeah."

"Are we... I mean, uh, to be blunt, if there are any sorts of mishaps, will that cause any problems on camera?"

"What kinds of mishaps are you worried about?"

"Things can go wrong with sex," Shane said. "Throwing up, the kinds of things that are best kept between a man and his colon, premature ejaculation...."

"Well," Ryan said, and he was looking faintly nervous for the first time, "I figure, if something isn't... that is, if something goes wrong, we could always just try it again. Or I guess, if it goes _that_ bad, we can just say "fuck it' and consider it an amusing thing to look back on."

"Right," said Shane, and he licked his lips. "That, uh, that sounds like it would work."

Ryan gave Shane a slightly crooked smile, and then he was kissing Shane again, but it wasn't that same desperate, hungry kissing.

It was sweet.

Soft.

Gentle.

Gentle enough that it was almost maddening, and when Shane tried to make it hotter, Ryan pulled back.

He was looking downright smug.

Jerk.

"This is fun," he told Shane.

"What, torturing me?"

There was a hint of whine in Shane's voice.

He wasn't sure how to turn it off.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to, if it came down to it. 

"That's not torturing you," Ryan said, his tone dismissive. "You want torturing?"

He slid a hand down into Shane's shirt, skating across the pale skin with the very tips of his fingers.

Shane shuddered, wriggling under Ryan.

It was just enough to ignite the nerves, almost enough to tickle.

Enough to make Ryan feel it, but not enough to make Shane actually get anything out of it, which was enough to make Shane grit his teeth.

"Is this revenge for all of the teasing on location?"

"A little bit, yeah," said Ryan, his tone cheerful.

His thumbs found Shane's nipples, and he pressed down, which made Shane groan, his hips jerking forward, his mouth falling open.

"God, you look good like this," said Ryan, and then he was leaning in, kissing along Shane's neck, gentle as anything.

His lips were scraping against the stubble, and that was a weird, but not unwelcome sensation.

One of Ryan's hands slid down to between Shane's legs, and then he was squeezing Shane's cock through Shane's jeans, and Shane was seeing stars.

"You're really big all over, aren't you?"

Ryan was clearly trying to sound sexy.

It might have even _been_ sexy, if Shane hadn't heard that line half a dozen times already.

"I do my best," Shane said, his voice dry.

"Oh my god, Shane," Ryan said, and he gave Shane an especially hard squeeze, just to make Shane's hips jerk forward.

"As hot as this is," Shane said, "this would probably be a lot easier to do in my bedroom. On my bed."

"You think?"

"It'd give my legs a bit more space to stretch out," said Shane, making a face as he curled his toes.

"God forbid we cramp up the bone stilts," said Ryan, and then he was untangling himself, stretching.

He was hard in his jeans, and Shane leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Ryan's belly, right where Ryan's shirt rode up.

He nuzzled into the soft skin, and then he kissed it, then moved lower.

The buttons of Ryan's jeans were pressed against his nose, and metal of his zipper was cold.

Ryan rested a hand on Shane's head, and then he tangled his fingers in Shane's hair, forcing Shane head back, so that Shane was looking up at him.

"I like you like this," Ryan said, his voice quiet.

"What, with a crick in my neck?"

"Looking up at me."

"So with a crick in my neck."

Ryan made an amused, slightly annoyed noise, and he grabbed Shane by the shoulder, hauling him up.

Shane's cock twitched - he wasn't used to this kind of... well, manhandling.

He liked it.

He liked it a _lot_.

Shane leaned down to kiss Ryan, and Ryan kissed him back, his fingers sliding into the belt loops of Shane's jeans, pulling them together, then breaking the kiss, panting.

"Fuck," Ryan said, and he licked his lips. "You're... you're amazing, you know that?"

Shane flushed, but he grinned a bit. 

"You flatterer, you."

"Are you feeling... up for getting fucked? I know I was super gung-ho about it, but if you're not up for it, that's... that's totally fine."

"I'm up for it," said Shane. "Although I wasn't, uh... aware that we were planning anything like this."

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever had unplanned anal sex before?"

It was weird to say it like that - to just lay it out on the table like this, instead of being coy or dancing around it. 

"Nope," said Ryan.

"There are... reasons why people plan anal sex," Shane said, trying to be delicate but straightforward. 

"Why - oh."

The little lightbulb went off in Ryan's head. 

"Right," said Shane. "I'm... good, but it's not a hundred percent guarantee. If you're not up for it, I'd understand."

"... what's life without a little risk?"

"Are you sure you're not just thinking with your dick?"

"Oh, I probably am," said Ryan, and he grinned, beginning to tug Shane towards the bedroom by the belt loops. "I can live with that."

"Well, as long as you're happy," Shane said, stumbling after Ryan. 

It was a bit like being swept up in a whirlpool. 

A horny whirlpool.

God, how had Shane gotten so lucky?

* * *

Shane was pushed onto his back on his bed, and he was grabbed by the hips, pulled to the edge of the bed.

"You're really strong," he told Ryan, his breath coming in little pants.

"Hey man, if I'm gonna put all this work into 'em, I might as well use the muscles, am I right?"

Ryan paused to pose, and Shane snickered, because... fuck, that was such a Ryan thing to do.

Ryan was this adorable mix of self conscious and vain, and it was enough to make Shane's heart beat a little faster. 

God, he had it bad.

"So," Ryan said, and his hands were on Shane's thighs, squeezing them, "where's the lube?"

"Sure is sexy when you put it like that," Shane said, his voice deadpan. "I know that's got me going."

"What, the fact that I'm about to take you to pound town doesn't fill you with so much anticipation that you wanna cream your jeans?"

Ryan was grinning so widely that Shane had to grin back, because how the fuck did Ryan manage to be such a goddamn jackass, while still being so... likable?

He turned his face up towards Ryan's, and he was kissed, Ryan's tongue in his mouth, Ryan's teeth nipping at his lips, Ryan's hands on his hips, pulling him closer. 

"But seriously," Ryan said, "I am _raring_ to go here."

He rolled his hips forward, his erection pressed against Shane's thigh, and Shane moaned. 

"I couldn't tell," Shane said, his voice dry. "I thought you just had your phone in your pocket."

"You fucking jackass," Ryan said, and he was... holding Shane's wrists in his hands, squeezing them, hard enough that Shane's toes were curling, just a bit.

Shane liked bossy Ryan.

He liked bossy Ryan a _lot_.

"Top drawer," said Shane. "Condoms, too."

"Right," said Ryan, and then he kissed Shane on the chin, and let go. "You wanna take your pants off?"

"Why don't you do it for me?"

... that had just popped out.

Um.

Shane was getting shameless, it seemed. 

Maybe it was knowing that Ryan was just… looking at him like that. 

God, he was just so worked up.

He was going to pop like a bottle of warm champagne.

“Since you asked,” said Ryan, and he was just… reaching over, unbuttoning and unzipping Shane’s pants, then grabbing Shane by the hips and yanking Shane’s pants down.

He took Shane’s underwear it, and then he was looking at Shane like he wanted to eat Shane alive.

… fuck, he was just tossing Shane around like a ragdoll.

This was a lot hotter than it had a right to be.

Oh god.

“I never saw you as a brat,” Ryan said cheerfully, and he was leaning over, digging through the drawer. “Jesus, why do you have so many extra pairs of glasses?”

“I thought I lost a pair, got a new pair, did it three times.” 

Then the rest of the sentence hit his brain.

“Wait, _brat_?!”

“You’re totally a brat,” said Ryan, and he was smirking as he got the bottle of lube, holding a condom packet between two fingers.

“I am not!”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a brat,” said Ryan.

“I’d have pegged you as the brat, personally,” said Shane, and then he made a surprised noise, as Ryan grabbed him by the back of the knee, hauling him towards the edge of the bed. 

Shane made a surprised noise, and Ryan grinned. 

“You weigh, like, nothing,” he told Shane. 

“You flatterer,” said Shane, and then he made a surprised noise.

Ryan had put lube on his fingers… at some point.

When had he done that?

But now those lube covered fingers were sliding into Shane - two of them, and they were a little rougher than they needed to be, but… oh, that was good.

“Hold on a sec,” Shane said, although he was loath to do so.

“Mmm?”

“Put a condom over your fingers first,” Shane said, through gritted teeth.

“Hm?”

“Remember what I said about certain things being between a man and his -”

“Right,” Ryan said, before Shane could finish his sentence. “Hold on a sec.”

Shane watched Ryan fumble, and he grinned a bit in spite of himself.

“Your first time with a guy?”

“I mean, yeah,” said Ryan, “but it’s going pretty well, compared to my first time with a girl.”

“How bad was it?”

Shane propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Ryan wiped his lube covered fingers on his leg, and then… latex covered fingers, in Shane’s butt.

“It was pretty bad,” said Ryan, and he thrust in nervously, curling his fingers.

Shane made a surprised noise, rolling his hips forward. 

“If I didn’t know better,” Shane said, his voice rough, “I’d think this wasn’t your first rodeo.”

“It is,” said Ryan. “My first rodeo, I mean. Never… never ridden this bronco before. But I figured I’d do some reading.”

His hand reached out, and he gave Shane’s cock a nervous stroke.

Shane groaned, rolling his hips forward, into Ryan’s hand. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “I’m, uh, I’m flattered you’re referring to me as a bronco.”

“Like I said,” said Ryan, and he gave Shane another long stroke, “you’re big all over.”

Shane snorted. 

He was clutching at the sheets, trying not to thrust too hard, trying not to wriggle too much.

“I do my best,” Shane demurred.

“I was expecting you to make some joke about how you grew it yourself,” Ryan said, and then he was adding another finger, and Shane groaned.

It was so… foreign, to just accept it. 

Not having to tell someone to finger him, not having to instruct them what he liked, what he wanted.

Just taking it.

It was refreshing in its novelty. 

“So you did… you did research?”

“Of course I did,” said Ryan, and he was full on finger fucking Shane now, those gorgeous muscles of his flexing with each thrust, as he split Shane open, and Shane was beginning to shake.

Ryan was only hitting his prostate one every four times or so, but… holy fuck, was Shane seeing sparks.

He was going to be so sore tomorrow.

It had been a while, since he’d taken it.

Let alone taken it from someone who was so… forceful.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty ready,” Shane said, and he licked his lips, making eye contact. “Are _you_ ready?”

“I was born ready,” Ryan said, as he withdrew his fingers, then transferred the condom onto his cock.

Shane watched, licking his lips.

“I should’ve asked to suck you off first,” he said, his tone thoughtful. 

“Should’ve?”

Ryan was just… spreading Shane’s legs wider, adjusting Shane to his liking, so that Shane’s hips were canted up. 

… Shane’s back was going to be _killing_ him in the morning, but right now, it was pretty close to perfect.

Especially as Ryan slid in, slow and sweet, good enough that Shane had to pause and just soak it in.

“See,” Ryan said, and his voice was thick, “see, it’s working better than it did the first time I did it with a girl.”

“Is it?”

“Oh yeah,” said Ryan. “She, uh… she sneezed, and that felt good enough that I came, and also slid out of her.”

“Oh my god,” said Shane, and he was… he was laughing.

He was, honestly, ugly laughing, the kind of ugly laughing that would probably be unwelcome in sex with anyone else, but Ryan was rolling his eyes, pressing deeper in, until their hips were pressed closer together.

“Laugh it up, big guy,” said Ryan, and there was a little bit of a hitch to his voice. “Shane, you feel….”

“Yeah, you’re no slouch yourself,” said Shane, and he shifted a bit.

Ryan’s hand went to Shane’s cock, squeezing it, then stroking it, and Shane shuddered.

He was watching Ryan’s shoulders ripple, as he leaned back, beginning to really fuck into Shane.

“It’s… it’s been a while for me,” said Ryan. “Next time, I’m gonna… I’m gonna have better stamina, but you’re so tight, I promise, I promise, I… fuckin’... god, Shane!”

Ryan grabbed Shane’s legs, and he _held them up to his shoulders_ , Shane’s knees resting on Ryan’s shoulders, Shane’s heels digging into Ryan’s back. 

“Fuck, you’re long,” Ryan said.

“I thought I was tight,” Shane said, and he gave a breathless laugh, as he began to stroke his own cock, because Ryan was holding him up so carefully.

Ryan moaned, and he laughed as well, awkward laughter that made his cock twitch, and so did Shane’s cock, as he humped back against it.

“God, this is… this is so much better than… than I thought it would be,” said Ryan. 

“How did you think it would be?”

“More bony,” said Ryan, and he laughed, so turned on he seemed to be beyond embarrassment. 

Shane snorted, and then he gasped, as Ryan grabbed his hips, lifting him up awkwardly, fucking into him even deeper. 

“I’m plenty bony,” Shane said, because he had to keep up some semblance of himself, and then he was sobbing, because Ryan was angling his hips so that his shaft was passing along Shane’s prostate, and Shane’s cock was drooling down his belly - down his _back_ , because he was being held off the bed now, and his neck was going to be sore, all of him was going to be sore.

The sound of their skin slapping together was louder than it should have been, and Shane would have been embarrassed, if he’d had the mental room for it, but he didn’t.

He didn’t have room for anything but humping his own fist, humping back against Ryan, letting himself be used, letting himself be manipulated.

At some point, Ryan was grabbing hold of Shane’s hand, over Shane’s cock, and Shane was being jerked off by Ryan, even as Ryan fucked him, and that was… oh god.

Someone was moaning and grunting and gasping - they were loud enough that it was getting distracting, honestly.

… and then Shane realized it was himself.

Huh.

How about that?

He’d never been a loud person in bed, but here he was.

How about that, then?

“Shane,” Ryan said, “I mean this in the nicest way, but your neighbors are gonna know we’re having sex.”

“Sorry,” Shane said. “I can, uh… I can try to be quiet.”

“I mean,” said Ryan, “I’m okay with it if you are.”

And then he rolled his hips again, harder, and Shane was practically _howling_ up to the heavens, because Ryan was doing… something, who the fuck knew what, except that now Shane’s back was arching, and he was going to hurt all over, but his cock was already swelling, beginning to twitch.

The pressure at the base of his spine and in the back of his head just… broke, like a stick, and Shane came.

It was a rough orgasm - he sobbed and thrashed his way through it, humping his way into it, as his cum ran down his belly and his stomach, towards his chin.

It was going to be in his _hair_ , oh god.

But Ryan was holding on to his hips, and he was speeding up, losing his rhythm. 

“God, Shane, your fucking… your face, oh fuck. Yes, yes, fuck….”

Ryan came inside of Shane.

Well, technically, came inside of the condom, which was inside of Shane, but it meant the same thing, more or less, right?

Ryan sobbed, and he was holding on tight enough to Shane’s hips that Shane was going to have bruises, even as he shuddered, as deep as it would get.

“Fuck,” Shane said, his voice thick, as Ryan lowered him back onto the bed, holding on to the condom with two fingers.

“We just did,” said Ryan, and he was grinning a bit, as he peeled the condom off of himself, tying it in a knot and tossing it into Ryan’s bathroom trash can.

Shane got up on his elbows to give Ryan a Look, as Ryan flopped down onto the bed next to him, his face in Shane’s chest.

“You give really good dick,” Shane said.

Ryan burst out laughing, and that was ticklish - Shane shoved Ryan away, before he started cackling himself, but Ryan wasn’t offended - he held on to Shane’s wrist, lying just close enough that they were almost touching each other, but not quite.

“That was the weirdest compliment that you’ve ever given me,” Ryan told Shane. 

“I do my best,” Ryan said, and he patted Shane on the chest. “Next time… I’m gonna explore all this lovely real estate.”

Shane snorted. 

“Is that a promise?”

“I went straight for your butt,” said Ryan, and he yawned, his jaw cracking. “Next time I’ll… touch all the bits of you.”

“All the bits?”

“All of them,” said Ryan. 

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Shane said, and he pulled Ryan close again, as he began to get the feeling back in his legs.

His toes were still curling. 

This was… certainly different.

He wasn’t going to complain, though.

… well, he was, eventually, but only because he had a reputation to keep up. 

But still. 

This was good.

"Thank fuck we're not lesbian sheep," said Shane. 

"... what?"

"Remember, like I said. Lesbian sheep syndrome."

"Why are you thinking about that _now_? Shouldn't we be having some kind of intense feelings talk or something?"

"I dunno. Do you want to have intense feelings talk?"

"Honestly, more than anything else, I want a shower. And then food."

"I could go for that."

"Unless you want feelings talk?"

"We can have it... at some point. But not now."

"Not now," agreed Shane. "Later." 

"We should get up," said Ryan, "shower. Be official and shit."

"Right," said Shane. "After you."

Neither of them moved.

After almost a minute, Ryan started to laugh.

Shane joined in, in spite of himself.

How could he not?

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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